Tame The Flame

The First Flame – Part II: The Breath Between Stars

The nights following the births were quiet, but not with peace. It was a deep, watching quiet—a hush before revelation. The fortress had changed. In every corridor and chamber, the very stones hummed with something older than history, as if the world had paused to witness what had been born.

Keal had barely slept. Not because of the newborns’ cries, but because of what stirred beyond the veil.

He sat on the moonlit edge of the watchtower, eyes fixed on the horizon, where the Etherstream glowed faintly like a second sky. His thoughts were endless, looping through the sounds of Nyra’s first breath, Kaelen’s radiant emergence, Siora’s lightning scream. He had faced down death in countless forms, yet nothing compared to the awe and terror of holding something he helped create—something alive and full of power.

Behind him, footsteps approached softly.

Seraphina.

She took a seat beside him, her long braid draped over her shoulder. The scent of flame-kissed rose clung to her skin. In her arms, Siora slept, tiny fingers twitching like a spark catching wind.

“She dreams while awake,” Seraphina whispered. “I think she’s listening to things we can’t yet hear.”

Keal nodded. “They all are.”

Below them, the fortress was alive with light. Lima’s warded chamber still glowed faintly, protecting Kaelen. Ava paced in her room, ever the warrior—even in motherhood—cradling Nyra with one arm and a dagger with the other.

“They’re going to change everything,” Keal said. “Not just kingdoms. The laws beneath the world.”

Seraphina looked at him, eyes sharp. “And what frightens you more: that they can... or that they will?”

He exhaled slowly. “Both.”

A week passed.

The healers remained, though they took on a quieter presence, observing from the corners of rooms. Ritualists arrived from the outer isles, their robes marked with sigils that shimmered only under starlight. They came not to tend wounds, but to study.

“Three children born beneath the Ether Moon,” one whispered in awe. “All touched. All marked.”

Lima allowed them to observe Kaelen, under heavy restrictions. She kept detailed notes of every flicker of magic he summoned in his sleep. Once, they found him drawing a star-chart with nothing but his gaze—constellations long vanished from modern sky.

“Where did you see these?” Lima asked him gently.

Kaelen blinked, then pointed upward.

“Before.”

Ava refused any ritualist to come near Nyra. “She’s not a curiosity,” she snapped.

But even she couldn’t deny the signs. Animals came to the child. Wild creatures that should have fled from human scent. Birds nested near her window. Wolves bowed their heads when they crossed her path.

“She commands without words,” said one elder. “As if the world knows her already.”

Siora’s power was loudest. The fire that once burned uncontrolled now danced only at her command. The flames followed her laughter. Rain refused to fall in her presence. More than once, Seraphina caught her staring into empty space, murmuring things no infant should know.

One morning, she spoke her first word.

“Keal.”

And all the torches in the stronghold flared to life.

In the council chamber, the old map had been replaced.

Now, etched into crystal, it depicted the ley lines of magic, the shifting currents of Ether, the places where strange energies had begun to bloom.

“We’re not the only ones who felt it,” Lima said, circling a pulse mark near the shattered cliffs. “There are others awakening. People, creatures, maybe even things older than time.”

Ava nodded grimly. “The Ash Prophet won’t wait. He’ll see these births as a threat.”

Seraphina, arms crossed, voice fierce: “Then let him come.”

Keal said nothing. He was still listening to what the stars hadn’t said.

That night, he dreamed.

He stood in a temple of mirrored glass. In each reflection, a version of him—older, younger, broken, crowned, alone. A voice echoed:

"You are not father to children. You are father to change."

He reached out, but the glass cracked.

From the broken reflection stepped Nyra, Kaelen, and Siora—older now, eyes glowing, powers fully awakened.

And behind them, a shadow with six burning eyes.

The Ash Prophet.

Keal awoke gasping, fists clenched around embers that vanished when he opened his hands.

He walked the fortress until dawn.

The stars pulsed above. The children dreamed below.

He stood at the edge of their cradle and whispered:

“I will not let the world break you. I will burn it first.”